Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of the Strange Neighbor
by Ferz
Summary: Harry is in a new world, needs an apartment. Hiding his use of magic perfectly he moves into 221C Baker Street and lives his life happily. Sherlock is turning mad. His neighboor is not possible.


**Disclaimer****: I do not own Harry Potter (although I really really wish I did ^^). I am not Arthur Conan Doyle nor the BBC, so I don't own Sherlock or its characters either. **

**This story, however, is mine.**

**Here it is ^^**

Chapter 1: Arrivals

Harry was quite proud of himself. Since he had appeared in this place a month ago, completely lost and not knowing what in Merlin's name had happened to him, he had stepped up quite a bit. He still had no real idea what had happened to him, other than the fact that it must have had something to do with Hermione's project imploding on him just as he was apparating. He had first thought that he had just apparated in the wrong place, but now he was quite sure it wasn't so simple. Either the reality as he knew it had been had been erased around him, which seemed quite improbable, really, or he had traveled to another dimension/universe/thingy.

Anyway, he had no idea how to go back, and not much of a will to do so anyway. Since they had won the war, five years previously, he had been more famous than ever, reporters following him everywhere, people asking for his autograph on the street… He had hated it. After breaking up with Ginny, who could never understand why he didn't want to go to that party, this festival, those ceremonies and whatever else he was invited to because of his fame, going to the Weasleys had been quite awkward. Andromeda Tonks had not wanted to expose her grandson Teddy to his fame, especially since the boy was half werewolf, and he had accepted her wishes with a heavy heart. So, apart from Hermione and the occasional visits from Neville and Luna, he had been alone, preferring to stay holed up in his house rather than affronting the horde of reporters.

So, really, even though he would miss his friends, it wasn't that hard to accept that he would probably never be able to return.

The hardest part was being in a world so utterly similar but where everything was so completely different. First, he had disappeared from his world in 2002, and had appeared here in 2014. More than that, he had not really lived in the muggle world for more than 10 years before that. He had no idea whatsoever how to use a computer, those things they called "smartphones" and whatever else they had come up with. And there was the fact that he didn't officially exist here.

The no money thing had been taken care of easily. As students in Hogwarts they had learned that magic didn't allow you to create money or gold or silver, but he had learned later that the Goblins actually enchanted all currencies, muggle or magical, so that they could not be replicated using magic. Since there could not have been an economy otherwise, everyone was happy with it. But it did mean that in this world, where he had found no wizards, no magical creatures or plants of any kind, he could create as much money as he wanted.

He had appeared in London, and it looked just like the London he had known, except of course that all the magical streets were gone. He had soon found out that muggles now used a great deal of technology, for almost everything. It didn't bother him much when he was walking down a street or shopping for clothes, but it interacted with his magic and had the same affect a half closed tap dripping a drop of water every two seconds would have. When you were going about your business it didn't matter much, but when you wanted to start reading a book or _sleep_, it became an horrible object of torture.

Sadly, after taking a cab to as far as possible into the countryside Harry had discovered that being out of the city didn't change anything. On the third day he was too tired to think of anything else than banging his head on the wall. Muggle medicine didn't work on him, his magic burning the chemicals before they had any effect. He didn't dare drink himself into oblivion because he was the kind of drunk who started enchanting stuff or flying away cackling in front of muggles, which wasn't good when there were no obliviators around to help. Pot would have the same problem.

Finally he found out that his magic stopped bothering him when he was in the subway. That day he fell asleep there, being woken up by city workers five hours later and thrown out. He had charmed his clothes clean and felt much better, but that didn't resolve much. Finally, he decided that the easiest thing would be to find an apartment underground and see if it stopped his magic from buzzing. Having no idea how to find an apartment, he asked the nice receptionist of his hotel, who was very happy to show him a website where he could find something to rent or buy.

Harry didn't think it was reasonable to buy an apartment in cash and decided on renting. The receptionist (who had a bit of a crush on him, which was useful) looked at him strangely when he said he wanted something underground but found him a few phone numbers to try. He thanked her with a smile and went to buy himself a phone.

He entered a shop with an apple on it, because he had seen lots of people using phones with apples on them, and asked for a phone. The guy directed him to the phones, which looked like shining glass and metal tiny boxes who lit up and did stuff boxes really shouldn't be allowed to do. Harry had not a clue about what to do with the things, but when he tried to ask someone they just told him that yes, he was allowed to try the new IPhone.

Harry was on the edge of total despair and wondering if he should't just go in a jungle somewhere and try his luck there, when he saw an old woman asking questions and being actually answered slowly.

Harry grinned, went outside, put a glamour on himself so he would look a thousand years old and entered the store again. This time the guy he asked about phones was very helpful. He showed him that you turned the thing on with the "home button" and then the screen was tactile and changed and there were applications and stuff. Harry didn't get much of it, but he did finally understand how to turn the thing on, off, and how to call someone with it. He was extremely proud of himself.

He had called the five numbers Judy had gotten him, found that two of the apartments had already been taken, and took appointments with the three left to check them in the following week.

That wednesday he went to check the first one, but it was actually a shared place with two other people. Harry would have had no problem with sharing his place, except that he didn't want to have to erase his roommates' memories half the time because he had forgotten not to do magic in front of them. The next day was his second appointment, but the landlord told him he didn't want drug addicts in his house and closed the door on his face. Harry was not, in fact, a drug addict, but he hadn't slept in a bed in seven days and that was starting to show. He had needed to stop putting glamours on himself because his magic started to act of its own accords, giving him suddenly bright orange eyes or blue teeth. So he did look a bit like a drug addict.

He had little hope, that Saturday, when he visited the last place. It was on Baker Street, number 221C, and the landlady was called Mrs Hudson.

He was right on time, which he was proud of, and when he knocked a nice looking lady opened, smiling at him.

\- "Hello, you must be Harry?"

\- "Yes. Are you Mrs. Hudson?" Harry answered, shaking her hand.

\- "Yes, I am. Please, come in, come in. Maybe we can go look at the apartment now and I'll let you decide what you think?"

Harry nodded, trying to keep his thoughts straight and failing miserably.

They went down a flight of stairs and Mrs. Hudson unlocked a door marked 'C'.

Harry felt the difference as they were walking down the stairs, his magic calming as if it had been burning and was suddenly in cold water. He sighed in relief, making the woman turn to him.

\- "Is there a problem?"

\- "Oh, no, absolutely not," Harry answered, trying to smile and looking tired. "I have sleeping problems, I'm sorry."

\- "It's no matter," she answered with an easy smile. They entered the apartment. It was rundown, badly lit, shady and quite a bit damp. There were some green spots here and there on the walls.

\- "It needs restoration," the lady started, "but…"

Harry cut her off.

\- "It's perfect. If I take it, do you mind if I do the repairs myself?"

\- "I understand, you… what?"

\- "I said it's perfect and do you mind if I do the repairs?"

\- "Oh, well, no, of course. However, it's a bit pricey, you seem like a nice young man, and I would understand…"

\- "My parents died and left me money," Harry said, wincing at how that had sounded. Smooth, Harry, real smooth.

\- "Oh, I'm sorry… Well, maybe we can go in my apartment and see about the papers?"

Harry nodded and they went back upstairs, Harry having to physically force himself to renter the horrible torture of his magic constantly buzzing around him.

They sat down, Harry accepting Mrs. Hudson's proposed tea with a smile, to discuss price and arrangements.

\- "Because of all the space, if I rent the apartment, I have to pay a lot of taxes. That's why the price is so high, I'm quite sorry about it, but these days, what can be done?"

Harry nodded.

\- "No, it's no problem. How much is it?"

\- "1800 pounds a month, including water and electricity but not gaz."

\- "Okay. Do you mind if I pay in cash?"

The woman raised an eyebrow, but smiled and finally nodded.

\- "When do you want to move in, Harry?"

\- "Could I move in today?" he asked, hopeful. He really _really_ needed to sleep.

\- "Well, yes, if you have all the necessary papers. I need a copy of your ID card, some proof of employment or that you do have money, insurance papers and a deposit of 4000 pounds. But the insurance papers can wait a bit, don't worry."

Harry did have the money, or could have it anyway, but he didn't have an ID card, and would probably never have one.

He had known about the caution thing, Ron had told him once while complaining about the price of his new place. However he had not known he would have to get other stuff… And could he even pay the deposit in cash?

But he really needed to sleep, now. Knowing he would feel guilty about it later, Harry took his wand off and send a Confundus on the nice lady.

\- "I've given you all the papers you asked for. There is nothing strange about me paying in cash. We should sign the contract and I should move in immediately. Today."

\- "Thank you, Harry. You've given me all the papers I asked for. We should sign the contract and you should move in today."

Harry nodded, and gave the envelope he had just conjured with the 4000£ inside it.

Mrs. Hudson took it with a slightly dazed look and smiled again. She showed him where to sign on the contract and gave him his own copy.

Harry entered his new apartment ten minutes later, conjured a bed and crashed into it.

….

Sherlock was bored. He was wondering what he was going to do since there was no case - nothing at all! How boring could people be? – and John wasn't there and no strange murder had occurred. It wasn't his week.

When someone knocked on the front door downstairs, he thought that maybe, just maybe, this could be an interesting case coming to his door for him to solve. People were sometimes useful that way, even if that never lasted long.

He went to his window to check, but the heavy rain stopped him from seeing much of anything other than a fuzzy shape.

He heard Mrs. Hudson moving downstairs. Did she have a visitor? The shape was too small to be M. Clarke and too lean to be any of her old lady friends. She wasn't in contact with any of her American children or grandchildren, and she would have said something about them coming to visit when she had cleaned the apartment three days ago anyway. The conversation when she opened the door and let the shape in was too short for the person not to have been expected. What was it then? Had she said something? Oh, he did remember deleting something she had said, but he always deleted almost everything of what she said, and mostly it was about cleaning or food. Had she spoken about a visitor?

Sherlock went to the door and opened it silently.

\- "…sleeping problems, I'm sorry," said a voice. It was too low to be a woman, too high to be a grown man, so it must be a young man between fifteen and twenty five, when the muscle were setting into place. Sherlock heard them descending the stairs to apartment C. Oh, was the young man visiting the apartment? Did he intend to rent it? Perhaps, no way of knowing more yet without more data. The sounds the two made on the stairs told him that the young man was slim and small, which went well with his previous examination through the window.

\- "It's no matter," Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson saying downstairs. They would soon be too far for him to hear them. He heard the click of the unlocking door, and Mrs. Hudson speaking again. "It needs restoration…" And then they were too far for Sherlock to hear them.

Boring.

Sherlock was about to go back in his own apartment when his eyes caught something. Or his eyes caught the lack of something that should have been there. Why wasn't it there? How wasn't it there? That was interesting.

The rain had been pouring down. The shape had had no umbrella. There was no water in the corridor. Not even some near the carpet, and the carpet itself was dry. That made no sense at all. Everything must make sense. Why didn't it?

If the floor was dry, it either meant that someone dry had walked on it, that nobody had walked on it at all, or that someone had dried it out immediately after it had been wetted.

Since he was sure that he had heard the young man (until further observation, he would assume that Mrs. Hudson was _not_ a hidden mad ventriloquist genius who had just told someone outside to go away before going down to the C with a walking giant marionette weighing as much as a man did), that meant that someone had in fact walked on the floor. It was dusty and had traces of dirt on it, with some hair and bits of dried mud, which meant it had not just been cleaned. That only left the possibility that the man who had entered was in fact completely dry or was using a towel to not wet the floor, which seemed improbable given the possibility of drying his feet on the carpet. And even with a towel, the rain was positively drenching, outside, and at least his clothes should have dripped somewhere other than on the towel.

So the man had been dry when he had entered.

But it was raining.

And he had no umbrella.

Could he have left his umbrella outside?

No, two reasons against that assumption. First, he had not seen any umbrella when he had looked at the man from his window. Second, an umbrella would not have kept the man's feet dry.

Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson and the young man coming back upstairs and hid behind the old clock, breathing as silently as he could and resisting the urge to peak and look.

Sherlock went to the door and concentrated to hear what was going on inside, but he only heard muffled voices and couldn't understand the conversation. When he heard footsteps coming to the door he hid again. Mrs. Hudson stayed at her door while the young man went back down the stairs, opened the door with his own set of keys and entered.

\- "Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, looking at him as he exited his hiding place.

\- "Hello, Mrs. Hudson."

\- "What were you doing hiding there?"

Sometimes some people were incredibly stupid. Being his polite self, Sherlock refrained from voicing that thought.

\- "I was hiding." He said instead.

How did normal people manage to breathe and walk at the same time without their brain frying?

\- "_Why_ were you hiding, Sherlock?"

\- "I didn't want to be seen."

Why else would anyone ever hide? Really, it was a miracle people managed to breathe at all.

Mrs. Hudson raised her eyebrows, obviously showing some kind of annoyance, although Sherlock really couldn't see why. She was the one asking ridiculous questions.

\- "So, the young man that came to visit the 221C has decided to rent it."

Ah, that was more interesting.

\- "So I had gathered. He has sleeping troubles, too. Was he walking on a towel?"

Mrs. Hudson frowned. Could she not remember such a simple fact?

\- "No, of course not. Why… never mind. He is a very polite young man."

\- "You said he moved in. Doesn't the C need to be renovated first?"

\- "Oh, Harry proposed to do it himself." The old woman stopped, her eyes widening a bit. "I don't know how I forgot, I needed to tell him about you."

Sherlock didn't wonder how she had forgotten. Mrs. Hudson was more interesting than most people he knew, but she still was a "normal person", with a "normal intellect" and such people forget most of what they saw.

\- "Why would you tell him about me?" Sherlock asked.

\- "Oh, you know, you do attract some trouble, Sherlock. The police comes often, and there are gunshots and fights sometimes, and you keep random hours too. I wouldn't want Harry to worry."

Sherlock nodded. Well, that was true, although he couldn't see why that would worry anyone.

\- "I will wait until the next time I see him. The poor boy really needs to sleep."

\- "By the way, what is his name?" Sherlock asked.

\- "Oh, Harry Potter."

Sherlock nodded to his landlady and went back to his apartment.

His new neighbor was a mystery, and he would solve it.

He sat on his usual chair, John's laptop on his knees since his was in the kitchen and went to check on the internet for anything interesting about an Harry Potter.

An hour later he knew he would have to investigate more. There were too many Harry Potters to find anything interesting. He would have to go into the field and actually see this man. For now however the mystery of the dry floor was still occupying a vast part of his mind, and he didn't want to find out too quickly. Once he saw the man he was sure there would be a perfectly logical explanation and the man would be as boring as everyone was, and that would be the end of the mystery. He picked up his violin and started to play.

**Here is my first chapter! I should publish the second chapter next week, but I haven't finished it yet, so it might be a bit later. I hope you liked it! Since English is not my first language, please say so if you've seen mistakes or weird sounding sentences, I'll try to correct them! You can also leave a comment if you thought everything was perfect, of course XP**

**Ferz**


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